Fires of Thalir
by Galadriadhar
Summary: Middle-Earth: All is peaceful. But not for long. Soon an evil like no other will break from the west. The warlord of Cindalha has allied himself with flying demons. And soon, the greatest war will break forth. I don't own Eragon or LotR
1. B1: Kutir, Hobbits, and Kings: Prologue

Book 1: Kutir, Hobbits, and Kings

Chapter 1

The sun beat down on the Shire, boiling ponds and chasing the little people inside. At least, until the moon provided the much needed relief from the scorching heat. Sam Gamgee looked out of the window, watching the heat radiate from the ground and make the air shimmer. The hobbit sighed, the wavering atmosphere reminding him of the fires of Mount Doom. His memory ran from him, and he had to chase it down into the thoughts he didn't like to recall. They dealt with Frodo Baggins, the best friend Sam had ever had. Frodo, suspicious of Sam after Gollum had planted the seeds of mistrust in his mind. Frodo, crying out after Gollum had bitten his finger off. Frodo, reminiscing of the Shire. Then Frodo, boarding the last ship to the Undying Lands with Gandalf, the wizard. This last memory was particularly painful because his friend had left Middle-Earth forever. The little man was lost in thought, and so he missed the shadow that passed over the sun, chilling the town beneath it. The wise ones of the town felt this was a sign of foreboding. The Ra'zac looked down on Hobbiton, thinking that it was just ripe for the picking.


	2. Sleep of Death

Chapter 2

"So, how's Mom?" Kutir, evil warlord of Cindalha, asked his advisor, Loka. They were walking through the tunnels bored deep in the rock of Mount Aa. The heat of the forge fires, coupled with the volcano's natural heat, sent up blistering waves of warmth, enough to send a man to his knees in utter exhaustion. The warlord didn't even break a sweat as he listened to Loka's reply.

"High Queen Cendal is in her chambers," the small Harlan said. "She has been wracked by a fever. She will not survive for long."

Kutir pulled Loka close and hissed. "The poison, you fool! How is the administration?"

"Ahhh. Cendal has taken enough poison to lay the entire army low. Your mother is truly the most powerful warlady to rule on the mountain."Loka gasped at the error he had made.

"You, Loka, are lucky that you said 'warlady' and not 'warlord.' I would have killed you right here for that mishap. Don't let it happen again." Kutir strode away from the Harlan, who was rubbing his neck where the fox had grabbed him, muttering about how the warlord had taken a turn for the worse.

"Hello, Mother," Kutir simpered as he walked into Cendal's bedchamber. "How are you feeling?"

"Quiet, son!" The High Queen's voice echoed through the spacious chambers. "Your whining vocal range will damage my delicate ears." Kutir moved to his mother's side. She was an silver-gray vixen, withered with age and the laburnum-yew poison. Tracery of scars from the Dunilet Wars ran around her long muzzle. Hundreds of years before the wars, the warlords and warladies of Cindalha had been human. But gradually, their cleverness transformed them into foxes, the most cunning of beasts. This change gave them an advantage, for as foxes they could creep around undetected. For Cendal, it was a disadvantage. Her vixen form was more susceptible to natural poisons, which Loka had secretly slipped into her ale.

"Peace, mother. If you shout, you will not recover. Rest now, and feel better."

"You say that every night, Kutir. Yet I never feel better. I always feel worse."

Kutir shrugged. "It's just your imagination, Mother. Rest now." As he turned away, he whispered, "forever." The crimson fox strode out, and closed the door behind him. Loka stood there.

"Is she asleep, Master?" Loka questioned. Kutir threw back his head and laughed.

"Yes. Cendal is asleep... forever!"


	3. At Maggot's Farm

Chapter 3

Sam was still at the window when teatime came around, and lunch, and all the other meals hobbits have until dinner. Rosie, Sam's wife began to be worried about him when he didn't come to four-o'clocksies. In all the time they had been married, Sam had never missed the four o'clock snack she prepared. Rosie walked to the window, where she saw her husband staring out into space.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

Sam started, then turned to see his wife standing there looking puzzled. "I'm alright, Rosie," he told her, pulling her close. "I was thinking of Frodo."

He looked down to see Rosie staring solemnly at him. "Sam Gamgee, you will never get anywhere if you dwell on those memories. Do you really think Frodo would approve?"

Sam chuckled. "No, I don't think he would approve. You're right. I need to move on." He winked roguishly at Rosie. "For starters, I believe there are bilberry waffles getting cold."

"Nope. Little Rosa ate them all. You're too late."

Sam looked crestfallen. Then, he brightened up. "I know! Gather Rosa and get your jacket! We're going to Farmer Maggot's!"

_Knock knock knock._ "Huh, I'm coming. These old legs are just slowing me down. Hold on!" Farmer Maggot rose from his moth-eaten armchair and hobbled to the door. Cursing as he fiddled with the lock, Maggot finally got the door open. There on the doorstep stood Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrine Took, Smiling widely at their old friend.

"Hello, Maggot," exclaimed Meriadoc (more commonly known as Merry.)

"What's up?," questioned Peregrine ( known as Pippin.)

"Ah ha, Merry and Pippin! What causes you to grace my doorstep at this hour? Come in, come in," Maggot said, beckoning them inside. Just as the farmer was about to sit down, another _knock_ sounded. "Confound it," Maggot said under his breath, once again hobbling to the door. This time when he opened it, Rosie, Sam, and little Rosa stood there.

"Hey, old man," Sam joked as his family walked inside. "You're legs holding fine?"

"Honey," Rosie scolded under her breath. Farmer Maggot laughed.

"Rosie, it's okay. When we were younger, you would not believe some of the things Sam here said!" Sam looked uncomfortably guilty, so Maggot moved to another subject. "So, any of you see the shadow that passed over at second breakfast?"

"Yeah, we did. That's why Pippin and I came over. We wanted to ask you about that," Merry stated. "What was it?"

Maggot sat down in the beige chair. He let out a sigh. "Something I never hoped to see in my life. A Ra'zac."

Pippin looked around at the other clueless faces. "I'm sorry. What is a Ra'zac?"

"You've never heard of the Ra'zac?" Receiving a chorus of "no," the farmer sighed again. "Ra'zac are bird demons from the land of Alagaësia to the east. They ride on ebony mounts, who are their parents. I know, it doesn't make much sense, but that is the way it works. These creatures eat meat, so if they have been sighted, don't be surprised when sheep, or even people go missing."

"People?" Merry asked.

"Yes, people."

"Is there anything we can do?" Sam asked. Maggot shook his head.

"No, there isn't. The only way to kill a Ra'zac is to stick a dragon horn sword through its heart. I suggest going home and trying to survive."

When Sam and his family went home a few hours later, he didn't even watch where his feet went, just traveling the well-memorized path. Samwise Gamgee had more to ponder, and he wasn't all that happy about it.


	4. Arrival

Chapter 4

Aragorn, King of Gondor, leaned back and wiped the sweat from his eyes. He turned to survey the fields. All around, men, women, and children worked together to bring the kingdom back from the brink of destruction. It was five years after the devastating War of the Ring, and Gondor still bore the marks of the battle for Minas Tirith. Masonry from the lower levels was still missing, and burn marks decorated the walls. The upper levels were virtually untouched, to Aragorn's relief. That meant less work. He picked his hoe up again and tilled the deep plain loam for a moment. A touch on his shoulder stopped him for a second time.

Aragorn turned, and his green eyes met Arwen's blue ones. He stared for a moment, lost in the amaranthine turquoise pools. Arwen spoke, and her seraphic voice jolted him out of his stupor. "Aragorn, why do you work yourself so?" Then, in a lower voice, "Elendil thedin hunir desala. (Elendil doesn't need you to prove yourself to him.)"

"I know that. It's not about Elendil. I want the people to know that I care for them. I will not be a tyrant that takes from his people and never gives to them." Aragorn told Arwen.

Arwen smiled at him. Instantly he was transfixed. Aragorn was never able to prepare himself for when the Evenstar curved those perfect lips up into a smile, a smile that caused the world to melt away. He and Arwen were all that were real.

"I understand. You are a good man at heart. You don't think of only yourself, you think of others first. I like that." Arwen's angelic voice cut through the dream like a flaming sword slicing butter. Aragorn started, and in that instant, he saw a dark shape flying in the air. It appeared to be one of the Ringwraiths fell beasts, but the shape wasn't quite right. The head was more triangular than the fell beast's, and the wings were longer. Aragorn looked harder, and saw that the rider was cloaked in a black robe similar to a Nazgûl. Fearing the worst, Aragorn called to the Gondorian archers.

"Prepare to fire! Get flaming arrows to burn it out of the sky!" The archers rushed to do his bidding. "Fire... now!!!" Dozens of arrows flew into the sky, leaving flaming trails in the air. Most of the arrows missed the beast, but five flaming arrows hit, burning the feathers. The beast shrieked, an earsplitting shriek that sent the soldiers and villagers down to their knees, howling in pain. The flying beast hit the ground with a earth-shaking crash.

"Oi! What was that for? I didn't do nothing."

Aragorn looked at the dragon-like mount in puzzlement. A creature pulled itself out from under the beast. "What are you staring at? You never seen a Ra'zac before?"

The king shook his head. "No, I haven't."

The Ra'zac snorted. "Ha, explains a lot. I'm not evil, though my brothers are."

"They are?"

"Aye. We are from Alagaësia. I am Uthalîa Küori Sagôs." The Ra'zac bowed. Aragorn extended a hand. Uthalîa took it, and for the first time in recorded history, a Ra'zac and a human met in friendship.


	5. Kutir's Betrayal

Chapter 5

"The High Queen Cendal is dead!!" The cry echoed through Mount Aa's passages. Kutir woke immediately from his troubled slumber. Finally, his mother was dead. Now, he could take the crown of Cindalha.

As he strode to the bedchamber, he reflected on the dreams that had haunted him. His mother's ghost, crying for vengeance. The Ra'zac Uthalîa circling overhead on the Lethrblaka. And him, locked in mortal combat with a small man whose blade shone like the Midnight Fire. Kutir shuddered, remembering the expressions on the faces. His mother's face was sad. Uthalîa's was satisfied, as though he was happy for the first time in a while. Worst of all, his was fearful, while the small man's was triumphant and gleeful.

Lost in these thoughts, he walked right past the chamber door before realizing what had happened. Kutir was embarrassed, and stepped quickly back to the door. Adopting a sorrowful expression, he burst in, swinging the door wide.

"I have heard the call! Loka, what has happened?"

"Sir Kutir, your mother appears to had been killed. Apparently, by poison."

Kutir fell back into a crimson chair. "Poisoned? Who would do such a thing to my precious mother?" His scarlet tail drooped on the floor, the bushiness gone as though his tail was in mourning. Loka stood by the silver-gray vixen, looking on impassively. He had learned to ignore the treacheries that this band of foxes had committed, for there was nothing he could do. But seeing the Queen spread out on the plush bed, struck deep to his heartstring. Sure, she was a tyrant, and she was given to random acts of cruelty. Still, the form of the powerless vixen limp on the bed, her silver markings shining brightly, the black scars in dark contrast to the graying muzzle, hit him deep. And knowing that he had helped bring about Cendal's death well, that was putting salt in the laceration.

By the time Loka had covered the Queen in her satin sheets, Kutir had "recovered" enough to stand up. He came to the bed, and smoothed his mother's shoulder fur down. Kutir's eyes clouded with unshed tears. He whispered soothing words to his mother. Then, straightening up, he walked to the door and went out to announce the news to the troops. Loka had heard what Kutir had whispered and he was dumbstruck.

"I am sorry that this had to happen, Mother. I needed the power. I love you. Goodbye." So, Kutir regretted the murder. Loka thought that this was very interesting. He concluded that there was still something left in that fox's body that was good. Perhaps he could use that good to his advantage. With this happy thought, he knelt down by Cendal's bed, and cried for the only one who had treated him as human. High Queen Cendal, one-time leader of the Ananin warriors, was dead.

******************************************

Kutir walked down to the parade ground, contemplating what to tell the warriors. It was just as he entered the grounds that he got his brilliant idea.

Kutir mounted the pedestal, a look of grief written across his face. The Ananins looked at each other, wondering what had happened to make the Prince so unhappy. Their questions were soon answered.

"Dear warriors," Kutir began, "it is my great displeasure to inform you that the High Queen Cendal is dead. Poisoned." This statement caused outrage among the soldiers. "I understand that she was a role model to each of you. But, in light of her recent death, I shall take the duty of Leader, if reluctantly, upon my shoulders." The troops cheered at this. Kutir was a favorite of theirs. "I would also like to announce that I have found the culprit who perpetrated this heinous crime. It was none other than the Advisor Loka Giloÿ Therpeta of Cindalha!" Loka had walked onto the grounds at this precise moment, and was stunned to hear his name and see thousands of raging mad Ananins come charging toward him. They picked him up and literally surged down the passageways to the dungeons, crying "Murderer, murderer!"

The first empty cell they came across was the one Loka was thrown into. The soldiers slammed the door, locked him in, and ran off toward the dining hall, rejoicing that the murderer had been dealt with. Kutir watched on with mock sorrow. When the others had left, he walked to the cell door. Loka stared at the warlord, who shifted nervously from Loka's penetrating gaze. Kutir was surprised with Loka's daring and the intensity with which the latter stared at the former.

"Traitor. You're a traitor. Kutir, you are not fit to have the title of High King placed upon you! You are a traitor!"

Kutir shrugged. "I guess you could call me that. I prefer to think of myself as 'ambitious.' Anyways, I was doing what I needed to do. You are now no threat to my rule. I am now Supreme Ruler of Cindalha, thanks to your single-minded help."

Kutir walked away, and as he did, Loka yelled after him, "Embellishing our title, are we? Well, you are a traitor! Not just to me, but to your entire nation! Kutir Refasde Porïelt, you are not fit to be the King, Supreme Ruler, or whatever you call it, of anything!!!"


	6. Reunion Among Friends

Chapter 6

"The road goes ever on and on,

I travel till the day is gone.

Bright sun shines down upon my back,

And there is nothing in my sack.

But I am fine, no troubles near,

I watch the rabbits and the deer.

They canter, prance, and walk on by,

With sparkling twinkle in an eye."

Samwise closed the book. Rosa protested loudly.

"I want more story! More, more, more!" Sam smiled. He was about to say something when he heard a _knock _on the door. Heaving himself out of his chair, Sam walked to the door and opened it. He nearly jumped out of his boots in surprise.

"Hello, Sam. Can I come in?" Aragorn stood at the threshold, clad in a mithril shirt and leggings. He held Anduril in one hand, and a Gondorian shield in the other. The shield bore the silver tree of Minas Tirith. On his head was a beautifully crafted elven war helm, with the crosstrees of Rivendell carved on the top. The flowing leaves of North Mirkwood's Elven Halls reaching back from the crosstree. Engraven on the elongated nosepiece was the swan of Mithlond. All in all, a very impressive piece of armor. Sam was pretty sure that Elrond had given Aragorn the helm. After all, Elrond probably had contacts in all of those places.

"Why are you here, Aragorn?" Sam asked. "Why did you leave Arwen?"

Aragorn laughed. "I didn't leave her behind. She is right there on the wagon." He gestured at the cart that stood behind him. There sat Arwen, as beautiful and seraphic as ever. Her beauty radiated out, seeming to make everything prettier. Sam moved, as if in a daze, toward Arwen. He took her hand, and kissed it.

"A pleasure to see you, You're Ladyship."

Arwen giggled. "Hee hee. Samwise Gamgee, do not bow to me. I know what you have gone through. I should bow to you." Lifting his chin up, she whispered, "I bow to you."

Sam blushed to the roots of his hair. Here he was, being told that the most beautiful lady in Middle-Earth (after Rosie) bowed to him. Aragorn cleared his throat.

"Well, I'm sure that we're all having fun. But I came to get you for a specific reason, Sam. One of the Ra'zac has made an alliance with us. His name is Uthalîa Küori Sagôs. Uthalîa has told us that the warlord of Cindalha, a land across the sea, is preparing to attack us. We need your expertise to help command. Will you help?"

Sam's mouth fell open. "W-What? You want _my_ help?"

"Yes. Plus, Uthalîa made a prophecy.

'The little man

That helped Frodo

Will be your commander

In this time of strife.'"

"Well, I guess I'll help. Lead on, Aragorn. To Minas Tirith!"


	7. Planning an Invasion

Chapter 7

Author's Note: I don't own Lord of the Rings or Eragon, I just toy with their worlds. I can claim ownership to Cindalha and Kutir, though. Also, I have been asked what Kutir is. He is the son of High Queen Cendal, who is a fox. Kutir is also a fox. The warlords used to be human, but as they grew more cunning, they evolved into the cunning fox.

Kutir walked through the mountain, sounds blasting at his eardrums. All around him, Ananin worked, creating shields, sharpening swords, making new points for spears, and forging armor. The liquid metal surged through the mountain, coursing into the channels dug for the taking of raw material. Simple slaves dipped buckets into the molten mass, carrying it to the forges where blacksmiths hammered the raw stuff into weapons of war. Then, with a flick, they would toss the newly-forged metal into water basins, where it would cool with a hiss. Steam from the forges swirled up into the air, mingling with the other emissions before dissipating completely.

Kutir walked passed these rivers of lava and the blacksmiths, smiling inwardly. The loudness of it all would have brought a lesser creature to its knees, but the warlord did not flinch. He was used to this. In fact, he welcomed it. To him, it was the music of victory. It was the evidence that his army could overpower all who stood in their way, through the sheer mass of numbers and armor.

In the next cavern he passed, the finishers were hard at work. Stampers took forged items and stamped them with the insignia of Kutir: a fox claw crossed with a sword-staff. The sword-staff was the chosen weapon of the fox leader; a magnificent beam of ash tipped with a golden blade of Mithrilla. Down the length of the staff runes of power were engraved. Kutir kept it by his side at all times.

The steady _tap-tap _of the stampers soothed Kutir. The continuous rhythm sounded in his ears. This was his favorite sound of all. It reminded him of power. Power, and rulership over all the lands of the world.

Kutir entered the command chamber and closed the door behind him. This chamber was the center of all operations in Kutir's domain. On the walls hung maps of Remordia and the surrounding lands of Middle-Earth, Alagaësia, and Corsthal. A rowan table sat in the middle of the room. Around it sat Kutir's officers: Kineta, Lestha, Archil, Norhas, and Sikl. He referred to them as KLANS. At the head of the rowan table was an empty seat carved with designs. This was the warlord's seat. With a flourish, Kutir spun the chair out and sat down. Noticing the dark shadow in the corner, he thought, 'Look, there is the Ra'zac leader.' He eyed each of his officers in turn until they looked away. Chuckling to himself, Kutir opened the meeting.

"Welcome, Kineta, Lestha, Archil, Norhas, and Sikl. Welcome to this command chamber." The dark figure moved forward threateningly. "Welcome to you too, Uthalîa." The figure moved back into the shadows. "I called this meeting to discuss how we can get over to Middle-Earth. As you probably know, we have no ships nor can we build them. Flying on the Lethrblaka is impractical, because we have so many troops. So, I wish to hear your suggestions. Who's first?"

The officers looked at each other. Finally, Archil spoke up.

"We could build submarines to take us under the water."

The others all nodded in agreement. Kutir pondered this, then crushed the idea.

"That would work, but the problem is that we don't have the engine capabilities to power that heavy of an object."

"Perhaps we could create a cannon to blast us across the Fithera Sea. We could escape all the hazards on the water: forty decifeet high waves, sixty decifeet wide maelstroms, and the three hundred forty five decifeet long Gorgsh." The officers shuddered at the thought of the monstrous Sea Dragoon Gorgsh. No one knew where the demon had come from, though there were rumors that it had come from the land Tirich Thek Kai, (land of the demon) in the gustri. The Dragoon was three hundred forty five decifeet long, about thirty four thousand five hundred in the feet denomination. Gorgsh had sinewy coils filled with iron hard muscles, perfect for crushing a helpless wood or metal craft. This monster was grey, with green and blue patches and red stripes along its back. The head was a roughly triangular shape, with flipping blue gills on each side of its neck. The nostrils were deep, black pits, flaring whenever the Dragoon was on the hunt for some unfortunate willthifish. The teeth resembled umber yellow razor needles, ending in ripping points tipped with mithril and dripping poison. It was supposedly able to breathe fire, a watery blue in color. But worst of all were the eyes, for according to legend the eyes gleamed with an inner light, a light that highlighted the crimson streaks running through the ebony irises. The eyes were, according to legend, able to hypnotize anyone and everyone. They even would be able to hypnotize a person as strong as the fox warlord Kutir. It was no wonder that Gorgsh became a legend of the seas, for though he was real, his powers were extraordinary.

Kutir laughed at his officers' fears. "Ha! The KLANS are afraid of a Sea Dragoon! Why? It is nowhere close us!"

Sikl, usually the quiet one, spoke up. "Lord Kutir, Gorgsh has been spotted at Zurek in times past. There is no reason to say that he will not appear again."

There was a stunned silence. Sikl had never said that many words before in one go. Kutir was the first to recover.

"Sikl, I think that you have seen this monster. Is that correct?" Sikl nodded. The other officers let out a gasp. "Please, tell us." Kutir urged.

Sikl sighed. "If you insist, milord." He began.

"I was only twelve when I saw Gorgsh. I was sailing on the ship 'Fyre Fiend.' We had passed the Bay of Salk when a storm blew up. Water washed up over the side. Thunder crashed while lightning flashed its golden branches across the sky. In the light of one of these crashes, I saw a figure moving towards us. The head surged forward, and I caught a glimpse of the mithril teeth points. Captain Faith, the lady commander of the 'Fiend,' took me in her arms and jumped overboard. The water was being beaten into a frenzy by the Dragoon. Every time I flailed, water surged down my throat. Faith had recovered sufficiently to swim to the shore. We were nearing the storm's edge when Gorgsh caught sight of us. He rushed forward, and grabbed Faith with his teeth. With blood streaming down her back, she called for me to save myself. And I did. I swam back to the shore, and survived until I am what you see me as today."

Sikl finished his tale, and leaned back in his chair, looking as though he would not be talking any more that meeting. Kutir thanked him, and announced his thoughts.

"I was about ready to okay the cannon, but in the current light of Sikl's tale, I think it would be best to forego that idea. Any others?"

Uthalîa stepped forward. "I believe I have the perfect plan."

"What is it?" Kutir asked, genuinely interested.

"Trebuchets. A trebuchet is a siege weapon used to fling an object over great distances. If a large enough one can be built, it should get the power needed to throw something over to Middle-Earth. I believe that we should throw gliders. Small, compact gliders that hold about ten troops each. With the power of the trebuchet and the air, a glider should be able to fly all the way to our destination."

Kutir pondered. "Trebuchets. That sounds like it just might work. Good idea, Uthalîa. Kineta, your troops shall be responsible for the throwing arm and power bucket. Lestha, you shall build the frame. Archil, you shall build a device to drop the rocks into the bucket. Norhas, find enough rocks to drop into the bucket to power about five hundred gliders. Sikl, you are in charge of building the five hundred gliders. Off to work, all of you!" Kineta, Lestha, Archil, Norhas, and Sikl rushed off to do their bidding.

Kutir walked to the door, and paused just long enough to say, "Thanks for the idea." Then he walked out.

Uthalîa strode out to the Lethrblaka waiting on the mountain's top landing platform. Climbing on, he spurred the steed into the awntri sky, already thinking what to tell Aragorn.


	8. Revealing a Skill

Chapter 8

Aragorn, Arwen, and Sam were squeezed into a two man wagon. Even though it was uncomfortable, they were happy to see each other again. The trio were on the Trhenka Road when Arwen stopped Aragorn.

"I hear something." Sam and Aragorn listened. Then they heard what Arwen's fine elven ears had picked up before they did. A _thump thump thump _was coming from the north. The noise got closer and closer until- wham! The wagon was knocked over by a flying attacker. Arwen dashed for cover while Sam and Aragorn turned to face the thing. It was a Kenthusian Flying Lizard. These reptiles were known for the super-hard plating on their talons and their teeth.

"Here. Take this sword." Aragorn handed Sam a full length sword, complete with gilded gold and encrusted rubies. The blade itself was made with Mithrilla metal. It was engraved with runes of the Gresholp tongue. Sam hefted it in his hand, and the sword seemed to bond with him. He suddenly understood everything about sword craft, from forging and melting to swipes and feints. The sword was his now, and a part of him. He charged forward, and met the Lizard head to head.

Sam slashed, parried, and cut like the best of them. He could see what the sword saw: A blurred world with a Lizard clear and crisp as morning standing out against it. He smelled what the sword smelled: the metallic, bitter tang of blood streaming from the Kenthusian shoulder. Sam could feel what the sword felt: the savage joy of biting into the flesh of an enemy and causing blood to spill down the channel in his body.

The hobbit blinked, suddenly in his own body again. He had been so deep in the sword's world that he had forgotten that they were two separate beings.

_No, one being in two bodies,_ the sword seemed to say.

'Kraakah!' The Lizard cried. Sam's mind once again melded with the sword's, and together they fought like an oiled machine. The Kenthusian was hit once, then twice, and fell to the ground in a heap, limp as long, wet hair.

Sam pulled himself out of the sword, and was astonished to see his foe on the ground. Once again, he had lost himself, become the sword and had felt the sword's thoughts and actions. He wondered briefly how this had been done, but was stopped short when ten more Lizards came out of the brush. This time, Sam attempted to break away from the bond with the sword, and instead focus on the battle at hand. What happened next truly amazed him.

One minute he was in his own body, the next he was looking out of multifaceted eyes. He realized that he was seeing what one of the Lizards saw. Sam saw himself wielding the sword. He saw Aragorn aiming a blow at another Lizard. He thought, _I don't wish to kill these creatures._ As soon as he thought it, the Lizard he was inhabiting left the fight with all the others behind him.

When the Lizard got past the trees, Sam was blown back to his own mind. Arwen was standing over him. She saw that he was awake, and asked, "You are Ripente?"

Author's Note: Ripente comes from a series called The Darkest Age that I don't own.


	9. Dark Blessing

Chapter 9

Kutir walked into the frigid cavern. The only light came from a flickering fire. Behind this fire sat a figure, shrouded in shadow. The figure's head rose, and in the firelight Kutir could see a face of vulpine qualities, from the cunning amber eyes to the silver muzzle. This was Segura, Fox-Witch of the Northern Evellands. She was a diviner and a fortune-teller. Kutir bowed respectfully, and noticed that the witch was staring at him.

"Velcome, to my humble abode, Kutir, Lord of Cindalha. Vhat is it that you vant?" Segura's voice echoed through the cavern.

"I believe that you know what I want, Segura."

The vixen cackled. "He he he. Yes, I do know. You vant the blessing of my evil, along with the future read." Kutir nodded. "Vell then, come sit by my fire." The warlord did as he was bidden. Segura stood up, walked over to Kutir, and sprinkled gypsum dust on his head. Then, she began to chant.

Kutir of the land of rock,

Fire on the mountainside,

Fox Warrior,

Cunning Fighter,

Of the noble Rexcaleth Clan.

Take the place as the High King,

You've shown your vorth,

Murdered the Queen,

I now give you

A blessing of the evil side.

Kutir jerked back, as though stung by a velm bee. The evil of his ancestors coursed through his veins. He could feel it, as though it was a poison. Segura laughed quietly to herself, and took her place by the fire.

"Now, shall I divine the future?" Kutir nodded. Segura picked up a bag, and pulled out her divining items. She cut up some alabari root, fennic leaf, and morels stalk and threw it all in the fire. The flames grew, and turned to purple. The vixen then waved her hand over the fire, muttered "segura morfit leven thurgund lesingr pillion phoenixa trellfell morset" and snapped. The flames coalesced into a sphere, and Segura stared into the orb. She pointed, and a bolt of electricity shot out of her fingers and hit the flames. Then, she began to speak.

"The land you fight is ready. Your attack is expected. Though this land cannot hope to vin, they will try. Beware the little folk, for one of their number will challenge you to a fight to the death. And vhile both survive, there can be no peace." Segura looked away from the orb. "I have told you all I can see. Go."

Kutir stood up and strode through the cavern entrance. Out in the Northern Evellands, in Renedhaith, the ground was always frosted. Kutir shivered and looked up to see Uthalîa on his Lethrblaka, gliding down to the earth. Kutir climbed on, and they flew away to Cindalha.


	10. B2: Battle Ch1:Ripente

Book Two: Battle

Chapter 1

Sam looked at Arwen. "Ripente? What is that?" Arwen sighed, muttered something under her breath about uneducated hobbits, and sat on the wagon.

"I will tell you what the Ripente are. But first, I must tell a story." She leaned back, closed her eyes, and spoke. Sam was spellbound, and he thirstily drank each word.

"Once, long ago, a child was born. His parents, Zared Drake and Aurelia Seraphina, rejoiced, for they had longed for a boy for years. He was an unexceptional baby, except for his ever-changing eyes. One minute, they were blue; the next, coal-black. His parents were frightened, but they told themselves that this was a normal occurrence. They managed to forget about it.

Ten years later, his parents once again noticed that his eyes changed colors. They took him to the village wiseman, who could not do or say anything about it. Although the parents were not satisfied with this answer, they took him home. On the way, Zared and Aurelia were attacked by Cindar's Elite Black Knight Fliers. They were killed in this raid. Heartbroken, the child wandered the countryside, begging for food and stealing it. He lived this way for four more years. Then, one day when he had managed to steal a bow and some arrows, the boy went hunting. He came across a selnar, and followed the beast deep into the Farlandon Mountains. The boy lost sight of the selnar and wished to see where his prey was. Instantly, the boy's vision changed from human vision to the biocrysto sight of the selnar. The boy realized that he had been given a very special gift: the ability to see through others' eyes. Troubled by his gift, he abandoned the selnar and left the Farlandons, arriving at his box he used as a home. Exhausted by his trip, he fell into his "bed," and dreamed.

In the dream, a wondrous lady walked towards him. Her cloak shimmered, and her hair was silken. When she spoke, it sounded as though thousands of elves were singing. He never forgot what she told him next.

'Welcome to the Zerketha, the land of dreams. We have been waiting for you.' She gestured behind her, and there stood hundreds of seraphic figures, males and females, all wearing the same aquamarine star-specked robe. 'We are the Legaris, Keepers of the Zerketha. I am Jasymiv, Leader of the Legaris. Sit down, we have much to discuss.' The boy sat on a chair that had just appeared.

'Where am I? What am I doing here? Most importantly, why me?' The boy questioned. He could have sworn Jasymiv smiled a little at that.

'I will start with the first question. You are in the Zerketha, the land of dreams. We have brought you here to speak with you. We cannot manifest ourselves to you in the outside world, for we have no true shape. I must impart wisdom to you that you need to survive. Secondly, as I said, I have brought you here so I could speak with you. Lastly, we need you. You are the only one who can truly stop the Magna Crepusculum, the Great Twilight.'"


	11. Launch

Chapter 2

"Rathen sorta musa nyea." _Thunk. _"Maris goona reqviem." _Thunk_. "Rathen sorta musa nyea." _Thunk. _"Maris goona reqviem." _Thunk._

Uthalîa landed his Lethrblaka on the launch pad, dismounted and stretched. He was rewarded with an audible crack.

"Ah. That feels good. Riding the Lethrblaka always gives me cricks. Are you coming, Kutir?"

Kutir jumped off the beast and landed on his hind legs. "That flight took forever. Can't you go faster, Uthalîa?" The Ra'zac bristled at the comment.

"If you do not appreciate the flying, you can walk for all I care."

Kutir turned his back on Uthalîa. "Walk with me, Ra'zac." Uthalîa muttered something under his breath but strode after the fox. "Isn't it amazing, Ra'zac? These soldiers work at my command. They die and fight when I tell them to. Heck, they even chant when I tell them to. Hear them? 'Rathen sorta musa nyea.'"

Uthalîa shrugged. "I've seen better. King Raytheon of Harla has total respect from his army." Kutir turned to the Ra'zac.

"Well, Ra'zac, Raytheon is a freak. Enough of that, though. Come with me to the command room."

They walked through the sweltering heat of the volcano. All around them the sound of hammers striking metal sounded. As they walked, Kutir motioned to a few soldiers to follow him. Kineta, Lestha, Archil, Norhas, and Sikl left their stations and followed their leader to the center of operations- the command room. The five officers took their seats as Uthalîa went to his customary dark corner. Kutir began to pace in front of the room, his paws creating a steady _tap-tap _on the killiron floor.

"I have returned from Segura's lair in the Northern Evellands. She has seen the future. But, I must find a certain person and destroy him if I have any hope of conquering Middle-Earth. She said 'The land you fight is ready. Your attack is expected. Though this land cannot hope to vin, they will try. Beware the little folk, for one of their number will challenge you to a fight to the death. And vhile both survive, there can be no peace.' I must find this little person and kill him. I need a volunteer." Kutir looked pointedly at Uthalîa.

The Ra'zac moved out of the shadows. "I will find this person for you, King Kutir, and bring you his head."

Kutir nodded. "Good, good. You may leave after the meeting. Next, how the building of the trebuchet parts is coming along. Kineta, you were building the throwing arm and the power bucket. How is that going?"

Kineta replied, "We are finished, High King."

"Good. Lestha, your team was building the frame of the trebuchet. Are you finished?" Lestha nodded. "Archil, is the rock-device ready?" He nodded. "Norhas, have you found enough rocks?"

"Yes, milord."

"Wonderful. Sikl, are the gliders ready?"

The silent officer nodded, and said, "We have created around two thousand gliders. Five hundred more are on their way."

Kutir was amazed. "That exceeds expectations, Sikl. Great work. Now, all of you meet and put the trebuchet together. Uthalîa, find that person!" All six bowed and exited the room. Kutir laughed evilly. "It is all coming together."

**************************************

Uthalîa climbed onto his mount, clicked the reins and held on as the Lethrblaka jumped into the sky. The awntri breeze propelled him across the Sumasi Ocean. Millions of thoughts were running through his head. Why was Kutir so bent on the domination of Middle-Earth? What would he gain from it? Then, it clicked. Kutir wanted the mithril deposits that supposedly lay beneath the Misty Mountains. With all that metal, he could give each warrior in his army a full-body suit of mithril. Uthalîa spurred his steed faster, hoping that he would be able to tell Aragorn before it was too late.

**************************************

Archil finished tightening the last screw on the trebuchet's arm. He stepped back and admired the wooden monstrosity. Seventy decifeet high, forty wide and eighty long, the trebuchet was as large as the largest trading boat. Next to the siege engine, two thousand five hundred gliders were being prepped with weapons and food by support crews. Farther off, twenty-five thousand troops were getting into position. Archil smiled. As the commanding officer when Kutir and Uthalîa were not there, he was to be the one to give a speech. He didn't trust the Ra'zac, even though Kutir did. 'And that will be his downfall,' Archil thought.

He climbed up onto the podium. All the troops turned to look at him.

"Today, we celebrate a momentous occasion in Cindalha history," Archil boomed. "Today, we carry on the work of the Cindar that was here when the Remords settled this land. That Cindar was engaged in a dreadful war with Isildor, son of Nurenor, King of Numenor. With the arrival of the beastly Remords, Cindar was forced to retreat back into Cindal Dûm, to protect his land from assault. The people of Middle-Earth no doubt think that we have given up on invading their land, but they are wrong. Today begins the occupation of the Grey Havens. From there, we will take all of the cursed land that was a thorn in our side for so long. Today, we will begin!" At this, every soldier shouted. "Now, troops of High King Kutir, begin grouping in the gliders."

******************************************

Kutir sat in the command chamber, thinking over the invasion tactics. They were all sound, but something didn't quite fit. He looked over the plans one last time, set them down and strode out the door to join his troops.

******************************************

Hours later, Uthalîa arrived at the ruins of the great city Khazid-Tharmel. Down below, he saw someone that appeared to be Aragorn. He seemed to be engrossed in a story that Arwen was telling.

'Well, they will just have to wait for the rest of the story,' he thought.

*******************************************

"......the Magna Crepusculum, the Great Twilight." Arwen said. At that moment, Uthalîa dropped out of the sky.

"Sorry about interrupting the story," the Ra'zac apologized, "but I must speak with Aragorn." Aragorn stood.

"Here I am."

"Aragorn, Kutir has started his attack. Any minute now, gliders carrying ten troops each will be flying into the Grey Havens. That is where the attack will be directed from. Aragorn, you must gather an army to fend this attack off!"


	12. The Sword

Chapter 3

A/N: Well, here we are. 2nd to last chapter. Yeah. I don't own Eragon or Middle-Earth. Yes, I know Segura is here. She is indescribably ancient. Don't be surprised.

Aragorn stood. "Arwen, Sam, I am sorry. I must leave. If what Uthalîa says is true, there is no time to waste. Arwen, I have heard this story, but Sam hasn't. Continue, for he needs to know." With that, Aragorn unhitched one of the horses, climbed onto it, and rode off in the direction of the dwarven mines.

Uthalîa looked apologetic. "Sorry, but duty calls." He climbed up into the saddle of the Lethrblaka, saluted, and flew away.

Sam waved farewell, then sat beside Arwen. "Please continue." Arwen smiled at him, and returned to the tale.

"The boy was astounded. He had never heard of the Magna Crepusculum.

'What is this?' the boy asked. Jasymiv sighed.

'The Great Twilight is a curse. A curse in the form of a being. This curse has laid many civilizations low. The Rethor, the Warriors, the Helki, and the Sycopha, to name a few. There is only one way to defeat this curse. The Sword of Thalir. It resides in the Northern Evellands, guarded by a being of immense strength. Its body is wreathed with flames. It is a Balrog. The Balrog's chamber is protected by a fox-witch. You must defeat the witch and the Balrog at their own games. Then, the sword is yours. For this reason, we have named this ordeal "Fires of Thalir." It is **your **destiny to defeat this curse. Go, and we will be with you.'

After that, the boy woke. He shook off the sleepiness and gathered what little items he had. Then, he began his journey. For three days and nights he traveled, finally arriving at Thurgundhall. He began to hear whispers of the evil fox-witch. The boy knew that he was in the right place.

The next day, he left the city. He carried with him only his bow and arrows. Later on, he came across a cave. Smoke belched from inside, and the boy bravely entered. Acrid flame stung his eyes. When they cleared, he saw a hooded figure sitting next to the fire. This, he thought, must be the witch.

The figure spoke with a voice like claw dragged down a chalkboard. 'Velcome, traveler. Have you come to find Thalir?'

The boy nodded. 'Very good. Segura knows that she must find a good riddle for you. Hmm. How about this?' Segura closed her eyes, then recited, 'Vhat does a poor man have, the rich want, and the dead receive?'

The boy smiled. He had been poor all his life, so this was easy. 'Nothing,' he replied in a clear voice. Segura frowned.

'Obviously I made ze question too eazy. You may pass. Beware the Balrog!" She cackled to herself as a door in the back opened. The boy walked through it, and was immediately hit by a wave of heat. There, in the middle of the room, stood a creature of fire. Fifteen feet tall, flames crackled around the Balrog's body. In its hand, a whip of crimson, licking, burning flames was coiled. At the sight of the boy, the Balrog bellowed and started forward. The boy shot, but the arrow burned up before getting close to the creature. He tried everything he could think of, but it was no use. The Balrog was too strong.

The boy fell to the floor, and asked someone, anyone to help him. In his mind's eye, a man slowly appeared, sinew and corded muscles bulging. Then, the man spoke.

'I have heard your plea, son. I am Oromë, the Huntsman of the Vala. There is one thing I can do for you. I give you power that no mortal has held for a thousand years. Now, you can fight the demon.' The man faded, and the boy found himself back in the present with an angry Balrog bearing down on him. He stood up, pulled back the string of his bow, and let the arrow fly. The projectile glowed with a pulsing, ebbing, blue light that reminded the boy of the sea. Then, the arrow hit, and the creature was covered in a translucent, turquoise light. Its fire was extinguished, and the Balrog fell to the ground. There, in the entity's back, a sword was embedded. The boy walked over and extracted the weapon. The hilt was perfectly balanced in his hand. Even without ornamentation, the blade was exquisite. The work was masterful, light, and amazingly tempered. The edge was razor-sharp, a cutting side perfect for tearing through the hardest adamantine. The boy could feel a conscience in the blade, as if it were alive. _I am alive,_ the weapon seemed to say. That night, when the boy fell asleep, he was once again in the Zerketha.

'Well done! I am proud of you. We all are.' Jasymiv floated forward. All around her, the Legaris hovered, seemingly unaware of the situation. 'There is one thing left. You must find the cursed being, and defeat him.' The boy nodded. 'We can send you to the being's lair, but we can do no more. We are bound by the rules that govern the Zerketha. Are you ready?' The boy nodded again.

The Legaris began chanting. 'Erythnul seturn morai Magna Crepusculum!' All was black.

The boy came to in a dark room. The air was chilled, and the shadows seemed to move on their own. A dark whisper echoed around the room.

'So, the great hero has come. Well, I do not plan to be defeated.' The shadows coalesced into the figure of a man carrying a dark staff. He struck at the boy, and missed. The boy jumped up, and reached into the mind of his enemy. This was the first time he had attempted to deliberately break into someone's mind, but he could see out of the man's eyes. He saw himself, readying the sword to attack. And then he felt the tug of another consciousness. The sword was tugging him, pulling him into its mind. He was part of the sword and the man now. He was a being of metal and flesh. The sides of the sword bonded with the meat of the enemy. He was a hybrid of two completely unlike things. He shot forward, and dug the blade into his own side. The weapon glowed with an unearthly light, pulsing between red and blue. It stung like a hornet nest. He screamed in pain. Then, he was just a sword. An inanimate object of metal with a mind. The Magna Crepusculum had been defeated. He slowly let go of the sword, reluctant to part minds. But he knew it must be done. As he released his hold, he drifted into the Zerketha. Jasymiv stood in front of the Legaris tribe, the Dream Keepers. Jasymiv was smiling.

'Good job. You have defeated the curse. Because of this, we give you your true name: Urúvion Beriadan, Fiery Defender of Man. Farewell, Urúvion. May we meet again in dreams.' The Legaris faded away. Jasymiv faded last, and she bowed to him. He bowed back, and she was gone.

Urúvion eventually left his land, and traveled east to an undefiled land he called Middle- Earth. He replenished the land, and reproduced. Every so often, a son or daughter would show up that had the same power as their ancestor. They became known as Ripente. As for Urúvion Beriadan, he died in the Shire, buried with Thalir, the sword that stopped a curse, waiting for the next destined Ripente to claim the legendary blade."

Finally, Arwen finished. Sam was silent, pondering what he had heard.

"The Magna Crepusculum was not defeated, though. It was weakened. It waited for the moment when it would be reborn, to bring a new reign of terror on our lands." Arwen said.

Sam looked up. "Am I the destined one?"

Arwen nodded. "Yes, you are the one destined to stop the curse forever. I will take you to the Shire, and then we can depart for the Grey Havens. Are you ready?" Sam nodded. "Aryetha toketha Urúvion gravi." She raised her arms, and soon, nothing was left but a slightly disturbed patch of grass.

They arrived on the outskirts of Sam's own village. He gazed hungrily at the humble cottages, knowing that he might not return. Arwen was standing at a block of stone, engraved with the first Ripente's name. Arwen bent down to Sam, and whispered in his ear. He nodded, and went to stand on the stone.

"I, descendant of Urúvion Beriadan, do claim the sword of Thalir for my own, and with these words, I will fight to the last breath to defeat Kutir. Likrit Rithe Firnthen Mosretta Skethan!" The block of stone shivered, then began to shake. It split in half, and a beautiful sword rose out of the grave. Unadorned, the blade was the most amazing thing Sam had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of amazing things. The weapon put even his new gilded sword to shame. Sam reached out, and the blade floated into his hand. He staggered back. The knowledge of this sword was incredible. A centuries-old battle weapon sat in his hand. The sword immediately bonded with Sam, and he saw the entire battle with the Magna Crepusculum first-hand. This was a force to be reckoned with, this blade. Sam looked to Arwen, and nodded. Arwen raised her hands again, shouted "Grey Jikolar Havens Senorise Kilthan Mithlond!" A great wind blew up, and carried the two to the Grey Havens, where Aragorn already waited with an army, and where the first gliders of Kutir were landing.


	13. Final Encounter

Chapter 4

Aragorn saw the approaching dust cloud and yelled, "Hold your fire!" Out of the cloud came Arwen and Sam. The king smiled. It appeared as though they had retrieved Thalir. Now, they stood a chance against the invaders.

All around Aragorn, dwarves and humans alike were lowering their bows. They did not take the arrows out, though, for fear that the cloud was a sinister apparition. Suddenly the lookout called, "We have company!"The arrows were pulled back once more as the archers tightened their strings, turned around, and saw the first gliders of Kutir.

"Archers, fire!" Aragorn shouted. A deadly rain of arrows hissed menacingly at their intended target. Twenty soldiers died immediately from the onslaught. The others survived to land on the ground and get in formation. The rest of the two thousand five hundred gliders landed, with minimal casualties. Then, the final glider arrived, carrying Kutir, Kinetha, Lestha, Archil, Norhas, and Sikl. The five officers disembarked, then made way for Kutir. Archil stepped forward and spoke to Aragorn.

"Behold! Kutir, Warlord and Supreme Ruler of Cindalha, Crusher of Enemies, Living Mouthpiece and Ancestor of the Great Cindar, Finisher of Invasions, does hereby declare that this land of Middle-Earth to be his own! All who surrender will be spared. Those who continue to resist the awesome power of the Supreme Ruler will be executed in the worst possible way. Kutir admires your power, Aragorn, and will allow you to be an officer in his army if you surrender. By Declaration of Kutir, Warlord of Cindalha."

Aragorn scowled. "I would not serve in his army if it was the last army in the world. Nothing could change me, not even if a Balrog declared it my destiny."

"Then you will die a slow and painful death. You have been warned. Milord Kutir will now address you." Archil stepped back, and Kutir strode forward. The Middle-earth defenders gasped when they saw him. A five-foot vulpine, covered from head to tail in scarlet-orange slashed fur, cunning amber eyes, and a fiery body language, that is what they saw.

Kutir cleared his throat. "HM-hm. I am Kutir. As the ancestor of the first Cindar, I have a duty to finish the invasion he started. I am not completely tyrannical, though. I will show mercy if you will deliver a dangerous hobbit with a sword to me."

Lestha leaned over to Sikl. "Where did he get that name?" Sikl shrugged.

Aragorn walked up to Kutir. Looking down on him, the Gondor man said, "I will never deliver anyone into your hands."

"Then you shall die. Troops, ready weapons!" As Kutir's warriors readied their arms, the Warlord strode back to the back of the army. "Charge!" Kutir yelled.

The soldiers ran forward. The entire first line was downed by a sudden hail of whizzing arrows. The defenders reloaded, then fired once more. Another portion of the invaders were downed. Before the bows could be fitted again, Kutir's soldiers crashed into the front line. The defenders all took swords out of their cloaks and whipped them up, all in perfect unison. The onslaught took the invaders by surprise, and they had to retreat and regroup.

While this was going on, Sam had been edging around the battlefield, looking for a chance to strike at the enemy commander. Finally, he saw an opening, and he rushed through it. He found himself on the other side of the battle. And, in front of him, Kutir was stalking towards him, face set, clutching a golden sword-staff. Sam circled around Kutir, hoping to find an opening.

"So, here you sit," taunted Sam. "You stay back here and let thousands die at your command. Wow! That is such an original idea. I bet King Aragorn is showing you up. I think that he is fighting at the front line with his soldiers. You are just a coward."

"What?! Did you just call me a coward? For that, you will pay with an eternity of pain." Face contorted with rage, Kutir rushed forward, swinging his sword-staff. Sam unsheathed Thalir, and attempted to break into the fox's mind.

Suddenly, Sam was in. He could see Kutir's memories and plans. As he watched, a series of childhood pictures floated by. Kutir being beaten by his father. Bullies picking on him at school. His mother, telling him the he would never amount to anything. Finally, a single picture passed by. Kutir, standing on a rock, shouting to the sky that he would repay the world tenfold for every wrong committed against him.

Sam snapped out of the fox's mind. He knew what he had to do. Kutir was the Magna Crepusculum. He had come back because Urúvion had fought the curse with his mind, thus leaving a remnant of the evil behind. The evil grew like a giant weed, until it grew enough to take its own body. Sam would not make the same mistake.

Kutir narrowed his eyes. He had felt Sam sifting through his memories, and then, on top of that, he saw Sikl thrusting a sword through Archil. Looking up for Uthalîa, he saw the Ra'zac slicing through three of the Cindalha warriors, with his Lethrblaka chewing up another. Kutir finally understood. All along, Sikl and Uthalîa had been against him. The Ra'zac must have warned Aragorn of the approaching attack. If Uthalîa had kept quiet, Kutir would have Middle-Earth by now. And Sikl had vetoed ships because he "saw" Gorgsh. No one had ever seen the Dragoon and lived. It was all a grand plot to steal the throne. He was impressed. But not that impressed.

'Loka must have engineered the plan. I should have killed him when I had the chance,' Kutir thought. Then, he felt a burning pain down his left side. The hobbit had dared to strike him. Kutir retaliated with a crushing blow upside the hobbit's head. Sam fell to the ground, bleeding from the strike. Kutir walked away. It was over.

Sam opened his eyes. He saw Kutir walking away. He could not let that happen. Sam stood, and shakily walked after Kutir. The Warlord stopped, and turned around.

"Well, well. I see the little man has survived. That won't do." Kutir walked back to Sam, swiped at him, and.... missed. Sam had lifted Thalir and parried away the blow. Kutir watched, amazed, as Sam straightened and strode towards the fox. Their blades met, and the light strength of Thalir gave Sam an advantage. He pushed away Kutir's sword, and struck the vulpine. Kutir howled with fury. He scrambled to his blade and hit Sam. The hobbit rode with the blow and stood back up. Kutir looked into Sam's eyes, and for the first time in awhile he felt fear. Sam's eyes were blazing with rage. A fiery gleam had entered them, and Kutir did not think the glow would be leaving soon.

"You kill my friends, you make us live in terror, you insult Aragorn's pride by staying here, and you wound me! Kutir, I will not rest until you lay in the sea being eaten by fishes!" Sam lunged forward, but Kutir sidestepped and slashed the hobbit as he dove by. Sam let out a yell of pain. He hit the ground and lay there, still.

Kutir limped to the warrior, and was promptly tripped. As he stood up, he saw Sam rising again. The Warlord was astounded.

"Why won't you lay down and die?" Kutir screeched. "You are supposed to be dead." But, even as Kutir watched, he knew that he was done for. This was the hobbit that fought like five dragons. He fought as though he was the sword. Kutir fell to his knees.

"Get up."

Kutir looked around. Surely he was dead.

"Get up. Get up, Kutir."

Kutir stood, and saw that Sam was standing in front of him. The hobbit handed the fox his sword.

"Die like a warrior, Kutir."

Kutir took the sword, and slashed at Sam's head. But Sam ducked, spun, and sliced Kutir's stomach. Kutir fell to the ground, his life bleeding out in ebbs and flows. The fox looked up at Sam.

"So, you win, Ripente. I am impressed. You are Urúvion Beriadan's descendant. You fight like him. Now I go to see my mother." Kutir went limp, his eyes glazed over and fixed on a distant point no one could see. Sam nodded to himself. Now, it was over. Bonding with Thalir had given him the strength to win.

"Thank you, Thalir." Sam fell to the ground, exhausted.

*********************************

"Sam? Sam?"

Sam slowly woke up. He saw Arwen, Aragorn, and his beloved Rosie standing over him. He felt amazing.

'Now,' he thought, 'Now we are safe.'

A/N: There! Finally finished! That feels good. Here are some afternotes. Uthalîa went to go cleanse the world of evil after the battle. Sam settled down and had no more adventures. Sikl was rewarded with a Medal of Honor. Loka was freed, and Aragorn ruled in peace til he died.


End file.
